


Bad Old St. Nick

by HipHopAnonymous



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Aziraphale Has a Vulva (Good Omens), Blow Jobs, Bottom Aziraphale (Good Omens), Christmas Smut, Crowley Has a Penis (Good Omens), Exhibitionism, Gift Fic, Inappropriate Use of Christmas Phalluses, M/M, Mild Human Furniture, Mild Humiliation, Mild Pet Play, Mildly Dubious Consent, Other, Pussy Spanking, Spanking, The Angel Doth Protest Too Much, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:06:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28458018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HipHopAnonymous/pseuds/HipHopAnonymous
Summary: Aziraphale stumbles upon Crowley playing Santa Claus in a London toy shop on Christmas Eve. It's the perfect opportunity to sit on Santa's knee and ask for Christmas treats. But naughty angels must be punished by Santa before they can get any presents!
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 25
Kudos: 141
Collections: Good Omens - Kinky Kissmas Exchange





	Bad Old St. Nick

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Aivelin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aivelin/gifts).



> A gift exchange fic for my dear friend Aivelin! Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!

Aziraphale could, of course, easily miracle up any decorations, treats, or presents that he needed for the Christmas holiday. 

But that was terribly boring. 

Instead, he much preferred the hustle and bustle of Christmas Eve shopping; always finding some excuse to walk the busy streets of London during Yuletide. Gabriel was so busy this time of year that he never even noticed Aziraphale sparing a few extra miracles to brighten the season. Be it ensuring that a popular toy was in stock just as a harried father rushed into a shop looking for it; or seeing to it that a bakery stayed open just a few minutes later than usual so that a family could make a last minute purchase; or stopping a child’s hot cocoa from spilling; or preventing slips on icy pavements. No matter how insignificant the miracle, Aziraphale truly enjoyed spreading joy during the Solstice.

On this particular Christmas Eve, after performing countless acts of altruism, Aziraphale was so filled with goodwill and cheer that he was positively beaming, looking nearly as jolly as good old St. Nick himself! He chuckled at the thought and gave his belly a pat, thinking about treating himself to some Christmas cakes or cookies as a reward for being so generous. Aziraphale had just decided on a particular little bakery when, out of the corner of his eye, he saw Santa Claus himself! Of course, it wasn’t actually St. Nicholas, but a man dressed as the contemporary version of the patron saint. ‘Santa’ was in a little toy shop in the large storefront window, lounging on an oversized red and gold throne amidst a faux wintery scene. It was clearly set up as an opportunity for small children to sit on Santa’s lap and make last minute gift requests. Or, more likely, for parents to force their tantruming offspring onto the lap of a random man in a costume for a photo op. 

Aziraphale’s smile faltered, and he furrowed his brow. It seemed odd a toy store would still have Santa visits open at this hour. It was late enough that the streets were devoid of families and children, having changed over into late night revelers, giddy and loud after plenty of eggnog and mulled cider. Suddenly curious, Aziraphale crossed the street. The shop door was propped open, warmth spilling out as Aziraphale peeked inside. He narrowed his eyes. He _recognized_ that Santa Claus. Oh for the love of—

“What in the Hell are you doing, Crowley?”

Now that Aziraphale was up close, he saw that Crowley made for a pretty pathetic Santa Claus. The red suit was shabby, the white trim dingy, all of it hanging loosely on Crowley’s far-too-slender-to-play-a-convincing-Santa frame. An obviously fake white beard was stuck haphazardly around Crowley’s chin. The Santa hat was sitting askew. Above all, he was wearing his usual pair of shades to hide those unnatural golden eyes, which served to make the whole ridiculous ensemble even less convincing.

Crowley tipped his chin down and peered at Aziraphale over his glasses with a devilish gleam in his eyes. He grinned. “I was just wishing a Christmas angel would show up, of course. And look—my wish came true! It’s a Christmas miracle!"

He winked. Aziraphale’s cheeks heated, and he rolled his eyes, sputtering, “Oh, you! I meant what are you doing in the whole Santa Claus get-up? Please don’t tell me any actual human children came to visit?”

“‘Course they did! Christmas is one of the easiest times for temptations, Aziraphale, you know that. I can plant desire in children's heads for impossible to find toys and then rile them up with too many free sweets; make off-handed comments to set siblings bickering. Not to mention the potency of those well-timed observations that are sure to make moms furious with dads … and so on. Christmas is a cornucopia of controversy. All I have to do is plant the seeds. I’ve never been one to pass up low-hanging fruit.”

Aziraphale’s jaw dropped. “But that’s not Christmas! Christmas should be about … about _love!_ ”

“Oh, yeah? How about you show me some _love_ , then, Angel?” Crowley stuck out his tongue and waggled his eyebrows, making Aziraphale’s face blaze even hotter than before. “I sure could use some. Playing Santa isn’t all it’s cracked up to be—bunch of smelly brats with sticky fingers climbing all over me. It was a miserable day, honestly, low-hanging fruit and all.” He grinned. “But lo! Now the angel of the Lord has appeared to bring me tidings of joy and …” he waved his hand in the air, “... all that.” 

Aziraphale grimaced. “Please don’t bring up Gabriel. You’ll spoil the evening.”

Crowley laughed, and then patted his lap. “Come ‘ere and sit on Santa’s knee. Tell him what you want for Christmas.”

“Don’t be ridiculous!” Aziraphale huffed, eyes darting towards the street just outside the window, still filled with boisterous (and drunk) humans rushing to and fro. “I’m far too old to sit on Santa’s lap, don’t you think?”

“Nonsense!” Crowley snapped his fingers and Aziraphale squawked as an invisible force yanked him over to Crowley where he tumbled awkwardly onto his lap.

“Crowley!” Aziraphale hissed, struggling to get up. But Crowley’s body was warm and inviting, his arms around Aziraphale’s middle, hugging him tightly. Crowley smelled very much like _Crowley_ and Aziraphale inhaled the intoxicating scent and relaxed. It had been so long since Aziraphale had given into this temptation that he felt weak to resist it. A well-timed squirm pressed Crowley’s impressive effort against Aziraphale’s backside, and then the angel was completely done for. “Crowley!” he protested again, but it was feeble this time, and he could tell that Crowley knew he had won.

“Come on, Angel,” Crowley murmured, his lips against Aziraphale’s ear sending a shiver of lust down his spine. “Tell me what you want for Christmas.”

Still blushing, but feeling good spirited enough to play along, Aziraphale began by requesting cakes from the fanciest, most expensive little pastry shops in the city. Next, he then moved on to ask for a few out of print editions he still needed for the bookshop. Growing bold, he finally surrendered to his baser desires. He gave Crowley a coy smile, and then leaned in to whisper a few choice fantasies into his ear that are best not written down. It was Crowley’s turn to blush.

“Hades help me,” Crowley muttered. “Never thought I’d hear such filth from an angel’s lips. I suspected you were on the naughty list, but now I know for certain.”

Aziraphale gave a little self-conscious wiggle, feeling embarrassed, but also pleased to have momentarily shocked Crowley’s sensibilities. He eagerly awaited Crowley’s inevitable raising of the stakes.

“Too bad I didn’t dress as Krampus instead of Santa,” Crowley mused. “But I suppose Santa can punish a naughty angel just as well. You do know what happens to those on the naughty list?”

Aziraphale's heart sped, a pleasant tingle starting up between his legs. There was no point playing demure now, and, feeling bold, he answered, “Perhaps you ought to show me later?”

Crowley chuckled darkly, his predatory grin making Aziraphale’s tummy flutter. “Later? Why wait? I’ve already got you right where I need you.”

Without preamble, Crowley easily flipped Aziraphale over so that he was face-down across his lap, and Aziraphale made a high-pitched, dismayed sound. He was so surprised by the suddenness of it that Crowley somehow already had his trousers and pants pulled down to his knees before Aziraphale could even properly react.

“Oh! Let me go, you _fiend!_ No, Crowley! No, no!”

Crowley’s response was a solid _smack!_ of his palm to Aziraphale’s exposed buttocks; sharp enough that Aziraphale stiffened and yelped from the sting.

“ _Crowley!_ ” Another smack. “Someone will see!” It was, after all, brightly lit inside the shop and dark outside, which meant that the scene they were creating would be prominently visible to anyone walking by.

Crowley delivered several more spanks, heating Aziraphale’s backside up quickly. “Do you really think I’d let them?”

Wincing at a particularly brisk smack to his stinging bottom, Aziraphale spared a glance out the enormous picture window. Plenty of people were certainly passing by, but nobody was paying any mind to the middle-aged man having his bare bottom spanked over Santa’s knee. Aziraphale relaxed. Of course Crowley wouldn’t _actually_ expose or humiliate him, and Crowley was always generous with his miracles when it came to benefiting Aziraphale. Still, the mere illusion of being publicly spanked by Santa Claus was thrilling in a confusing, delightful, and agonizing sort of way.

Aziraphale stopped trying to escape and instead focused on writhing and whining as Crowley continued to soundly spank his naked bottom. Crowley was not at all holding back, each smack crisp and loud against Aziraphale’s most tender flesh. No matter how much Aziraphale wiggled his hips, Crowley never missed his mark. Deaf to the angel’s pleading whimpers and indignant little _‘ouch!_ -es,’ he made sure to deliver a sound spanking to a very naughty angel. 

Aziraphale’s bottom jiggled and reddened such that it was soon shaking like two bowls of strawberry jelly. Freshly cooked, boiling hot jelly, that is! Aziraphale’s backside felt positively overheated from the tops of his round buttocks all the way down to the backs of his thighs. When it came to punishment, as a denizen of Hell, Crowley was exceedingly thorough.

By the time Crowley finally stopped wailing away at Aziraphale’s poor bottom, Aziraphale had flailed so much that he’d kicked his shoes right off and wiggled his trousers and pants all the way down to his ankles. Crowley took the liberty of yanking them all the way off, leaving Aziraphale bare below the waist apart from a pair of red and green tartan Christmas socks.

“Festive,” Crowley chuckled at the stockings, running his warm hand over Aziraphale’s throbbing hot buttocks. “You know, I could probably light my sleigh with these rosy red cheeks!”

Aziraphale harrumphed at the jape, intending to respond with a snide comeback, but then Crowley’s hand was slipping between his legs and Aziraphale could only respond with a sharp inhale of surprise instead. Crowley made a disappointed sound when all he found there was smooth skin.

“You aren’t even making an effort!”

“Well,” Aziraphale huffed, “I didn’t think I’d need one for just a bit of Christmas shopping!”

But Aziraphale’s groin was already buzzing in interest, and he leaned into the sensation to construct genitalia fitting for his mood. The moment he did, the blood rushed to it so quickly that he became rather lightheaded. His newly formed pussy came already soaked, the fat clitoris swollen and throbbing along with the heat of his bottom.

“That’s more like it,” Crowley said, his voice suddenly hoarse, much to Aziraphale’s delight.

Much more to Aziraphale’s delight was when Crowley dipped a finger inside while thumbing his clit in gentle circles. Aziraphale’s mouth fell open with a little gasp of pleasure, eager to ride it out to completion. Too soon, though, Crowley removed his hand, and Aziraphale whined at the loss.

Crowley clicked his tongue. “This won’t do. It’s a waste if nobody can see you!”

In one swift movement, he pulled Aziraphale upright to sit on his lap, facing him away and forcing him to perch straddling Crowley’s knees. The worn Santa Suit was rough against Aziraphale’s well-spanked bottom which made him squirm in discomfort. Furthermore, he felt too exposed like this, and so he reached his hands down to cover his groin. Crowley, however, immediately took Aziraphale’s wrists and pinned them behind his back with one large, strong hand. Crowley then spread his own legs even wider which forced Aziraphale’s thighs farther apart, presenting his wet, glistening cunt to the huge window and the countless humans milling about on the pavement. Aziraphale realized that exposure was Crowley’s aim by positioning him like this, which ignited a full-body blush over Aziraphale’s pale skin. Ignoring his obvious discomfort, Crowley slowly flicked the buttons of Aziraphale’s shirt open, and then gave each of his nipples a firm pinch before trailing his hand down over Aziraphale’s soft stomach to cup his sex.

Even knowing that some demonic miracle was keeping them hidden from prying eyes, the fantasy of being bared so publicly was more than a little disconcerting, and Aziraphale closed his eyes, his face blazing nearly as hot and red as his bottom. He was certainly regretting not opting for pubic hair, knowing the shiny folds of his cunt were all pink and smooth and so very _naked._ Crowley leaned him back against his chest, spreading and opening Aziraphale up even more, revealing the puckered anus beneath the pussy in the process, as well. The sensation of being on display in the store window with the cool air drifting in through the open door was already almost too much to bear, but when Crowley began to touch him again, the sloppy wet sound of it set Aziraphale completely ablaze. He whimpered and squeezed his eyes shut, turning his head to the side and burrowing it against the crook of Crowley’s neck. The tingling pressure mounted quickly, and his thighs shook as it washed over him with bursts of pleasure so strong he feared he would collapse. But Crowley held Aziraphale tight, secure in his arms on his lap, still lewdly exposed to the busy street as his first orgasm threatened to overwhelm.

“Just look at you,” Crowley murmured when Aziraphale’s breath slowed. “Such a wanton little harlot. You pretend to be embarrassed after whispering all those filthy fantasies in Santa’s ear, but you came right away like this. Maybe I really _should_ let all those people in the street get a glimpse of such a disgraced angel—wet and wanton in a demon’s clutches …” he raised his hand, fingers wet from Aziraphale's pussy poised in midair as though he were about to snap and break the spell that kept them hidden.

“N-no!” Aziraphale squirmed in Crowley’s grip. “Don’t! Please!”

Crowley chuckled, but lowered his hand. “Fine, then. I’ll just have to punish this lecherous cunt the old fashioned way.”

Without missing a beat, Crowley gave Aziraphale’s slick, sensitive pussy a sharp little smack of his hand. Aziraphale had barely had time to recover from his orgasm, and so he screeched in shock. Crowley paid him no mind, though, keeping Aziraphale’s legs spread as he spanked his cunt with light staccato slaps, vigorous enough to sting, but not so hard as to cause any lasting damage. Aziraphale writhed and yowled, his pink pussy becoming even pinker under Crowley’s ruthless hand.

It wasn’t all pain, though. The prickly warmth grew quickly, spreading out and making Aziraphale’s clit throb so hard from the relentless impact that he came a second time with a throaty gasp, more than a little surprised that he had reached orgasm just from having his pussy spanked.

“Incorrigible!” Crowley said with faux outrage. “Careful! Naughty boys don’t get any presents. Whatever is Santa going to do with you, you depraved thing?”

Aziraphale felt Crowley was being rather hypocritical since he could feel the insistent erection prodding against his lower back. However, Aziraphale was in no condition to snark, still tingling all over, slumped and boneless in Crowley’s lap, resting his head on Crowley’s shoulder as he panted, white curls plastered to his clammy forehead.

“C-Crowley ...” he said softly, which he knew wasn’t a sufficient answer, but it was all he could muster in his current state.

After only a moment’s hesitation, Crowley said decisively, “Down,” and gently urged Aziraphale off his lap, helping him to undress and leaving him naked aside from his Christmas socks. “On all fours.”

Still overwrought and trembly, Aziraphale complied, eager to have something to do besides standing there naked and fidgeting awkwardly. He allowed Crowley to navigate him into his desired position with his stinging red rump facing the Santa throne. Aziraphale heard Crowley do some sort of miracle and then felt something being placed on his head. He glanced towards his faint reflection in the window and saw that it was a pair of reindeer antlers. He almost chuckled at the silliness, but then there was laughter coming from outside the door and he glimpsed a large group walking by. He flushed and quickly ducked his head, looking resolutely at the floor, but Crowley was having none of that.

“Look at them all, Angel.” Crowley reached his foot forward, nudging the toe of his boot beneath Aziraphale’s chin and lifting it up. “Just look at all those people only a few feet away from us. Too bad they can’t notice you even though you’re putting on such a good show. I think you deserve a little treat. Crawl over to that basket and get yourself a sweet, why don’t you?”

Aziraphale bit his lip, hesitating briefly before he finally obeyed, shuffling on hands and knees to the basket of candy Crowley had indicated. He found it filled with peppermint sticks—not the skinny little candy canes that were popular in recent years, but the old-fashioned, thick, fat _phallic_ looking ones. Swallowing hard, Aziraphale plucked one from the basket and brought it back to Crowley. He got back into position, lowering his eyes again when he could no longer bear to keep looking at the crowds just outside the window.

His ears pricked at the sound of Crowley unwrapping the candy and then loudly sucking on it. “Delishioush,” Crowley said, mouth full. Aziraphale couldn’t help but turn his head to see what Crowley was doing, rightfully apprehensive about what he had planned. “Don’t worry, Angel, I promise this treat is still for you. Just slicking it up a bit first …”

Heat flared in Aziraphale’s cheeks at the confirmation of Crowley’s aim, and, as expected, Crowley pulled one of Aziraphale’s buttocks to the side, prying him open and pressing the blunt end of the end of the candy stick against his anus. Aziraphale released a slow, shaky breath, and though his head was buzzing and heart pounding, he tried to relax, squeaking only a bit at the stretch as Crowley slid the peppermint stick inside, deep enough that it was held securely in his tight pucker.

Such an activity might prove risky to humans, but the candy stick dared not break or cause Aziraphale any real mischief once Crowley put his mind to buggering the angel with it. Of course, it still _burned_. It took only a few seconds before the moistened peppermint oil began scorching the delicate skin inside Aziraphale's arsehole.

“Oh! _Ohh!_ ” Aziraphale whined, uselessly clenching his buttocks against the peppery heat and wiggling his bottom from side to side.

“That should keep you plenty warm on this cold winter’s night, huh?” Crowley said, and though Aziraphale was terribly distracted, he could still hear the smirk. “You know, that peppermint was so tasty, I think I’d like one of my own. Could you crawl back over there and fetch me one, my naughty little reindeer?”

Aziraphale was tempted to refuse, but Crowley placed the bottom of his boot against the end of the peppermint stick protruding from Aziraphale’s anus and gently pushed, sending a burst of fire up the sensitive channel. The discomfort was followed by a curious ripple of pleasure, though, and Aziraphale’s clitoris twitched. Taking a deep, shuddering breath, he crawled slowly to the basket. The candy stick wagged with his movements, stinging and stretching him inside. Overcome with sudden inspiration, Aziraphale dipped his head into the basket and took a peppermint stick into his mouth instead of his hand, carrying it back to Crowley between his teeth like a puppy.

Crowley smiled down at him, clearly impressed. Playing along, he reached a hand to scratch behind Aziraphale’s ear as he took the peppermint candy from his mouth. “Good boy,” he praised. “Keep your bottom towards the window this time. Maybe some of that warmth will drift out into the cold street.”

Crowley chuckled at his own joke as he pushed Aziraphale’s head and shoulders to the ground with his boots. Aziraphale’s hips were left raised up, presenting his backside sluttishly to the window while Crowley rested his feet on Aziraphale’s back, crossing his ankles as though the angel were a footrest as he unwrapped his candy and popped it into his mouth like a cigar.

Aziraphale’s ears burned knowing that his rosy red buttocks were facing the street with the peppermint stick lodged firmly between them. The minty burn had, thankfully, subsided to a warm throb inside his anus, leaving his cunt feeling bereft in comparison, still hot, wet and tingling from his prior orgasms. He gave a little moan, his thighs and backside twitching.

As though reading his mind, Crowley clicked his tongue. “I’ve left your poor pussy wanting, haven’t I? We can’t have that. But I shouldn’t spoil you with too many sweets, so …” he miracled up a carrot, thick and bulbus with an ample bush of leaves at the stem. “Reindeer love carrots, right?” He grinned and, without getting up, magically willed the carrot to find its way inside Aziraphale’s wet and waiting hole. Aziraphale sucked in a breath as it slipped into his slick pussy which seemed to throb happily around its girth.

Aziraphale could only imagine how he and Crowley looked: a plump, naked ‘reindeer’ in a pair of festive Christmas socks was on all fours presenting his well-spanked backside (currently stuffed with both a peppermint and carrot stick to boot) towards the large window. All while ‘Santa’ enjoyed his own candy cane, relaxing in his throne with his boots propped up on Aziraphale’s back like he was a piece of furniture. It was such an outrageously pornographic Christmas scene that Aziraphale overflowed with arousal at the humiliation of it, flushed and trembling all over. If any of the humans on the street only knew how to look past Crowley's miracle, then they would be treated to an unfettered view of Aziraphale's shameful predicament. Thankfully, humans were rarely so perceptive.

And then Crowley upped the ante, unfastening his red Santa slacks to pull out an enormous, leaking erection. “Santa could use a little assistance from his reindeer,” he said with a salacious grin.

Well, Aziraphale only had one hole left, so he had no choice but to push himself up on shaky knees, shuffling forward to take Crowley’s cock in his mouth. He first lapped up the salty beads of fluid at the tip, and then wrapped and slid his lips down the entire length of it, taking the insistent prodding at the back of his throat in stride. Suddenly finding that he was quite hungry for it, Aziraphale greedily sucked and slurped with fervor, enjoying Crowley’s gasps from above.

“Looks like you got another treat after all,” Crowley managed to quip, though his voice was rough. He'd apparently already tossed his candy aside, as well, far more interested in what Aziraphale was doing between his legs.

Aziraphale hummed in agreement. Without even slowing the bob his head, he reached between his own legs to pet his clit. Aziraphale knew best what Aziraphale liked, so it barely took any time at all before he was reaching his third orgasm of the evening, pussy and anus clenching around their respective Christmas phalluses as the pleasure pulsed through his loins and up his spine. Aziraphale’s wet, mouthful moans around Crowley’s cock urged the demon to his own completion, and he gripped the arms of the chair to keep his hips from lifting right up out of his seat as he shot his load down Aziraphale’s throat with a sharp cry.

Aziraphale swallowed as best he could, but missed some errant emission that dribbled down his chin, no doubt making him look downright debauched as he sat back on his haunches, still stuffed in his nether-holes like a Christmas turkey, pink and damp all over. The absurdly cute reindeer antlers served as the perfect touch of charm to complete such a festive, filthy look.

Crowley was lying back in a heap on the throne, panting. “Well,” he finally huffed. “Now that you’ve been thoroughly … er … _punished,_ ” his lips curled and eyebrow cocked at the ludicrous statement, and Aziraphale stifled his own snicker. “I can, in good conscience, deliver all those things you asked Santa for, you greedy, wicked, _lovely_ thing.” Crowley winked, and Aziraphale dipped his head with a bashful grin, giving a pleased little wiggle in response to the praise.

He looked up his lashes at Crowley, batting his eyes and knowing full well the demure expression was Crowley’s Achilles heel. “How about we start with the cakes?”

A sudden crash from the propped open shop door startled them out of their post-coital stupor. A human woman—clearly drunk off her arse—had stumbled into the doorframe and was now staring at them in awe with wide, glassy eyes.

“Shit!” Crowley hissed, frantically tucking his limp cock away. 

Aziraphale squawked and practically dove behind the Santa throne to hide. Both fumbled for a miracle, unfortunately too sex-drunk to manage much of anything at the moment. Before they were able to act, someone across the street called for the woman, and she blinked rapidly before turning and darting away towards the voice.

“Why didn’t you do something?” Aziraphale squeaked.

“Why didn’t _you?_ ” Crowley leaned his head back against the throne and groaned. “I’d only just used up all my energy. You sucked me dry!”

“Oh, I am going to discorporate right this minute!” Aziraphale said, covering his bright red face with his hands.

“Relax,” Crowley said, pulling Aziraphale up and planting a kiss on his forehead. “It doesn’t matter. She’ll chalk it up to the alcohol anyway. No need to worry.” Crowley snapped his fingers, finally recovered enough to find his power, and both he and Aziraphale were again dressed in normal clothes (and devoid of any objects inside orifices!)—with the exception of the reindeer antlers still on Aziraphale’s head and the Santa hat on Crowley’s. Aziraphale looked uncertain, but Crowley winked. “It’s still Christmas Eve isn’t it? Come on, Angel, let’s go get you that cake!”

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Brenda Went Window Shopping and Got an Eyeful](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28487949) by [Quefish](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quefish/pseuds/Quefish)




End file.
